Maria Farmer reported Epstein for recruiting minors for sexual liaisons to the FBI in 1995, but her information was dismissed. Epstein went on to abuse countless girls and young women. He and Maxwell are now the public face of the international sex ring, but those whose perverse appetites he was satisfying are still out there unscathed.
And 20 years after Maria Farmer’s reports of child sex trafficking were blown off, I experienced first hand that local law enforcement in New Mexico was actively discouraging reports. When I called the sherrif ‘s office because the renters next door were throwing used needles, burnt spoons and other drug paraphernalia over the fence into my horse pens, I insisted that they were more than local addicts.
There were brand new high end vehicles coming and going all night long. They were dropping off skinny raggedy dark-skinned men who hung around long enough to take a dump in the driveway. Then the feces were picked up, I assume the plastic bags of drugs recovered and that undocumented individual would then vanish. Worse, in my eyes was the number of dark-skinned pubescent girls who passed through, many of whom were obviously in the last trimester of pregnancy.
It took some persuading to get the Sheriff to send someone out to pick up the hazardous waste. But I insisted that dirty needles needed to be disposed of properly. I also told them I was concerned about the feces and the young girls.
The deputies who finally showed up made sure to let me know that my complaints were unwelcome. After they left, I called the anonymous tip hotline. I said I needed to report my experience anonymously because the officers in question had made it clear that expressing my concerns conflicted with their interests.
The first question the dispatcher that answered the anonymous tip hotline asked me was if I wanted an officer to come to my house. And if so, they needed my name, address and phone number. I refused to identify myself with some outrage.
I had to insist that I did not want any more officers coming to my house. I had to repeat that I was, in fact, reporting the officers who came to my house as much as the criminals next door. I had to emphasize that I did not feel safe around them especially as the officers had made it clear that they were on first name basis with the people I was reporting.
A few months later, the renters were evicted. The criminal activity in the neighborhood became less overt. And about eighteen months later, two homicide cops showed up at my door looking for those very same people.
I told them I had no clue where they had gone. And I could not help adding that if anyone had taken my concern seriously, that homicide could have been prevented. I added my concerns about the child trafficking and prostitution.
The homicide cops told that they could not do anything because they worked homicide, not vice. They urged me not to get discouraged and keep reporting problems when I saw them. But we all left our conversation feeling discouraged.
I do not know how many of those girls survived.
I do not know if anyone is looking for them.
And I do not know how many young girls just like them are still on their way to or from Epstein’s cronies.
So, FBI Surveillance Van # 157, I have to wonder how your bosses justify eavesdropping on me when there are serious criminals and desperately young victims out there who genuinely need protection, who truly have no where to turn.
And here is a link to the Nuremberg Trials, as a reminder to all of us that following orders is NOT a defense for participating in or covering up atrocities.